


One Thirty-Two

by japastiel



Series: kisses [3]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Birthday, Birthday Presents, Fluff, Gift Giving, Incest, Kissing, M/M, Teenagers, Telepathic Bond, Telepathy, begetting day, dubious use of osanwe, Ósanwe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 22:16:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5432753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/japastiel/pseuds/japastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for the kiss meme prompt fill, celegorm/curufin + a first kiss and a passionate kiss</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Thirty-Two

Celegorm scrunches his nose up in frustration, the cherry stem keeps slipping between his tongue and missing the loop he’s held together for nearly half an hour. He nudges the stem with the tip of his tongue again and curses as it springs back from his grip.

 

“Need some help?” Celegorm startles from the unhelpful hyperfocus on the tip of his nose to find Curufin relaxing, all long limbs and sneaky smiles, into his bedroom door frame.  

 

“No,” Celegorm mutters under his breath trying to twist the stem in on itself again.

 

“Well, as hilarious as you look cross-eyed and struggling, it would pain me to see you at this for another half-hour.” Curufin looks down at one of his ring clad fingers, inspecting the gold with the same enthusiasm he would pay his dry etiquette tutors before returning his attention to Celegorm. “I saw you plucked a handful of cherries from the dessert mother is preparing for your begetting day dinner. And you didn’t offer to share. Tsk-tsk.” Celegorm narrows his eyes, his heart is hammering in his chest daring Curufin to tell their mother despite his fear of punishment, “Don’t worry I’m only here to give you a gift.”

 

“But--” Celegorm watches Curufin with wary eyes, considering the lovely ear cuffs the young smith-prodigy had given him earlier that morning.

 

“That was the first of two gifts. I’d like to give you the second now. If you aren’t too busy--” Curufin walks into the room and right into Celegorm’s personal space, curling his forge-rough fingers over Celegorm’s tanned wrists holding them gently at his sides, “but I _will_ have to take that from you.”

 

Celegorm gasps as he feels the warm tendrils of Curufin in his mind, _don’t move._ Celegorm freezes with his lips parted and the cherry stem poking out between his teeth and tongue.

 

Curufin leans in, his warm breath ghosts over Celegorm’s lips making his eyes flutter shut briefly. Curufin’s clever tongue brushes the very tip of Celegorm’s before pushing the loose stem between the loop Celegorm is holding. He catches the elusive end between his teeth and pulls the knot tight and the stem from Celegorm’s teeth completely. He releases one of Celegorm’s wrists to toss the stem away. _See, we make a perfect team._

 

“Your gift was to tie my cherry stem?” Celegorm whispers, flexing his wrists in Curufin’s reclaimed grip, backing away to catch the playful fox-sly look in Curufin’s silver eyes. Up this close he can see the blazing blue and bronze facets around his blown-out pupils. Not the simple _silver_ everyone prattles on about and certainly not plain. If he stares any harder he's sure he’ll be able to see into the very depths of Curufin’s fëa.

 

The mingling tree-light coming in through the open window combined with the desk lamp is just bright enough to illuminate the flush high in Curufin’s cheeks as he studies Celegorm’s face. Their noses are close enough to touch. Celegorm exhales and Curufin’s eyes trail the sound back to shamelessly stare at Celegorm’s full parted lips.

 

Celegorm knows he’s beautiful, his sterling hair and cobalt eyes set him apart from his brothers more than his dislike of crafting. And he certainly isn’t stupid, he knows where his bread is buttered and drags his teeth over his full cherry-stained lip before wetting them. He can see his reflection mirrored in Curufin's reaction and his face is all wrong, like he’s chatting up someone pretty and not toe to toe with his little brother. But then again, his brother _is_ pretty. Celegorm’s flirted with maidens not half as pretty and certainly not as elegant.

 

Celegorm has heard the rumors, that most of the maidens in the city would be more than willing to court him. They titter about how Nelyafinwë’s charms lie _elsewhere_ and Kanafinwë is married to his work, so the next suitable prince for marriage is _Turcafinwë the Fair_ and what a _pretty_ prize he is. Unfortunately his heart has other ideas.

 

Curufin has always had Celegorm’s heart spun the short distance around his fine boned finger but it's never been like this-- never this open or this close. Curufin has never looked at him with this amount of heat-- they’re venturing into the unknown and Celegorm is on fire. _This is wrong_ resonates through every burning cell in Celegorm’s body, but it’s the good kind of _don’t-let-dad-hear_ wrong that thrills him to his core. The kind of jittery delight he used to get sneaking out late with Curufin after curfew to climb trees and stargaze hoping they wouldn’t get caught.

 

Curufin quirks his dark, perfectly groomed eyebrow echoing Celegorm’s thoughts perfectly, “If you say anything, someone will hear, and we really, really don’t want that. You saw what father did when he found Nelyo holding Findekano’s hand last summer.” He licks his lips purposefully slow. “If anyone discovers _us_ like _this_ , surely our punishment will be far worse.”

 

Celegorm feels himself shiver wondering what _this_ entails when their mother’s voice echoes through the corridor for their older brother to assist her in the kitchen. Supper will be finished soon. “Surely she can hear us.” Celegorm’s nervous eyes trail away from Curufin towards the open bedroom door. He doesn’t move an inch.

 

“More reason to stay completely silent, then.”

 

Curufin closes the gap between them and tastes completely different than Celegorm ever imagined. And he has dreamed of kissing Curufin-- Celegorm assumed he would taste like the sly smiles he stealthily slips him as they plot mischief; and the sticky sweet honey chocolates he never gets punished for stealing from the kitchen pantry. Instead when his tongue swipes persistently passed Celegorm’s lips, it's a prism of autumn and ochre flooding his senses. Like amber-warm forge soot and snuffed campfires and a dazzling array of metals-- Celegorm should have expected that. The forge is the heart of Curufin’s very being.

 

Like a steady drizzle on a bright summer afternoon-- his mind is washed with _you’re my heart and my home, my love._ Curufin’s kiss edges on sloppy, licking wet at everything his tongue can reach as _mine_ reverberates over and over in Celegorm’s mind.

 

If home is where the heart is, then Celegorm can’t imagine living apart from Curufin for one single moment now. His home is pressed up too-tight against his ribcage and rolling their hips together just-so. Celegorm aches as he opens his mouth wider and sucks Curufin’s tongue into his mouth. The curl of Curufin’s tongue against his own is tantalizing and the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted.

 

Curufin releases Celegorm's wrists allowing his fingers liberty to catch at the edge of his tunic, playing upwards, finding warm skin underneath. Celegorm has often wondered if his fingers would fit into the divots at the base of Curufin’s spine, he kneads his fingers up, slotting them in-- _perfect fit_.

 

Curufin’s steers them back until Celegorm’s thighs are jammed into the edge of his dusty writing desk. Celegorm is usually less-than-pleased that his younger brother is is nearly as tall as him, but he realizes that if Curufin wanted to, he could pick him up and set him on the tabletop. Heat pools in his groin when Curufin growls into his open mouth _next time_. His mouth falls open and ruthlessly mashes their lips together until their teeth clack clumsily.

 

Celegorms skin tingles at the thought of the promised _next time_ while Curufin is still sucking filthy on his lips. Celegorm thanks the universe for the staining qualities of cherry juice otherwise the greedy bruises Curufin is sure to leave behind would be painfully obvious over dinner. Curufin pulls Celegorm’s lower lip into his mouth slowly, dragging his teeth over the edges before sinking them in deep, the copper tang of blood blends exquisitely with the metallic hue of Curufin’s natural aroma.

 

A harsh tug in Celegorm’s hair wrings a low filthy moan in the shape of his brother’s name from deep in his chest. Curufin pulls abruptly back and silently slaps his hand over Celegorm’s mouth, removing it as soon as he placed it there. Both of them immediately look towards the empty corridor.

 

Celegorm drops his forehead against Curufin’s with a long ragged inhale, like it's only Curufin’s weight against him that’s reminding him to breathe. The thrill of possibly getting caught leaves their hearts pounding a pulsar-quick thrum against their ribcages.

 

Curufin withdraws, leaving Celegorm abandoned and panting as they listen to the muffled tones of Nerdanel asking Maedhros to gather his brothers for supper and to not scold Celegorm for the cherries he pilfered earlier. His begetting day was the one day he was allowed to spoil his dinner with dessert first.

 

Celegorm smirks, finding the tied cherry stem under his hand and tosses it at Curufin. “Thanks for spoiling my supper.”

 

As quickly as he had appeared in Celegorm’s bedroom, Curufin retreats to the doorframe, catching it in his fingertips, “Happy begetting day.” His pink tongue pokes out from the corner of his syrupy smile as he disappears around the corner.

 

 

 


End file.
